
Book - Lj-^t n( ^ 



Copyright N°. 



ft 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SONGS AND SONNETS 

BY 

RICHARD LOVELACE 



[i] 



n . T ..^ u 1 --,- r >- r t ,1 I 1 I T 







■Hfc' LIBRARY OF 
CONQRESa 

Two Copies Received 

SEP. 21 1901 

>pvwght Eirnry 






COPY A. 



Copyright, l(?Oi, 
by 

Robert Howard RusselL 




E, H. Sot hern as Richard Lovelace. 




RICHARD LOVELACE 



RlCHARD LOVELACE, the eldest son of 
Sir William Lovelace of Woollidge in Kent, 
Knight, was born in that country in 1618, edu- 
cated in grammar learning in Charterhouse School 
near London, became a gent, commoner of 
Gloucester Hall in the beginning of the year 1634, 
and in that of his age sixteen, being then accounted 
the most amiable and beautiful person that ever 
eye beheld ; a person also of innate modesty, 

[vii] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

virtue, and courtly deportment, which made him 
then, but especially after, when he retired to the 
great city, much admired and adored by the 
female sex. In 1636, when the King and Queen 
were for some days entertained at Oxon, he was, 
at the request of a great lady belonging to the 
Queen, made to the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
then Chancellor of the University, actually 
created, among other persons of quality, Master 
of Arts, though but of two years' standing; at 
which time his conversation being made public 
and consequently his ingenuity and generous 
soul discovered, he became as much admired by 
the male, as before by the female, sex. After he 
had left the University, he retired in great splen- 
dour to the Court, and being taken into the favour 
of Lord George Goring, afterwards Earl of Nor- 
wich, was by him adopted a soldier, and sent in 
the quality of an ensign, in the Scotch expedition, 
an. 1639." Such is the account left by Anthony 
Wood of Lovelace's youth. 

[ viii ] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

Although Whitelock, in his Memoirs, speaks 
very highly of Goring's military character, the 
campaign — if such it may be called — of 1639 can 
have afforded Lovelace scant opportunity for the 
display of any soldierly qualities he may have 
possessed. The general-in-chief of the army was 
the Earl of Arundell, who had never looked on 
the face of war; the command of the horse, 
through the influence of the Queen, had been 
given to the Earl of Holland, "the most incom- 
petent of men ,? and, according to Sir Philip 
Warwick, " fitter for a show than a field "; while 
to the Earl of Essex, whose military experience, 
gained in the Palatinate, was next to nothing, was 
assigned the office of second in command of the 
entire Army. A contemporary account speaks 
of the march of the army to the North resem- 
bling a triumphal procession rather than a military 
expedition, and of the prevalent idea being that 
the campaign would terminate in bloodless com- 
promise rather than in active warfare. Sir John 

[ix] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

Suckling, in a letter written to a friend from the 
banks of the Tweed, voices this general senti- 
ment. He says : 

" We are at length arrived at that river, about 
the uneven running of which, my friend, Mr. 
William Shakspeare makes Henry Hotspur 
quarrel so highly with his fellow-rebels ; and, for 
his sake, I have been something curious to con- 
sider the scantlet of ground that angry Monsieur 
would have had in ; but cannot find it could 
deserve his choler ; nor any of the other side, 
ours ; did not the King think it did. 

The account I shall now give you of the war, 
will be but imperfect, since I conceive it to be in 
the state that part of the four-and-twenty hours 
is in, which we can neither call night nor day. I 
should judge it dawning towards earnest, did not 
the Lord's Covenanters' letters to our Lords here 
something divide me. 

So, Sir, you may now imagine us walking up 
and down the banks of Tweed, like the Tower 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

lions in their cages ; leaving the people to think 
what we would do if were let loose. The enemy- 
is not yet much visible : it may be it is the fault 
of the climate, which brings men as slowly for- 
ward as plants. But it gives us fears that the 
men of peace will draw all to a dumb show, and 
so destroy a handsome opportunity, which was 
now offered, of producing glorious matter for 
future chronicle. 

These are but conjectures, Sir; the last part 
of my letter I reserve for a great and known 
truth, which is, that I am, Sir, 

Your most humble servant, 

John Suckling." 

It is a matter of history how, after weeks 
wasted by Charles in fruitless negotiations, a de- 
tachment of 3,000 foot and 300 horse under the 
Earl of Holland was sent upon June 3rd to drive 
out a considerable Scottish force which had estab- 
lished itself at Kelso ; how Holland, finding his 
force outnumbered, retreated — contemporary ac- 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

counts say ran away — without striking a blow, 
and rejoined the main army at Berwick. On 
June 1 8th the Treaty of Berwick was signed, 
whereby the King engaged to send back his 
soldiers to their homes. " Posterity must tell this 
miracle," wrote Suckling, " that there went an 
army from the South, of which there was not one 
man lost, nor any man taken prisoner but the 
King." 

It may well be that Lovelace, in this cam- 
paign, either met for the first time, or renewed his 
acquaintance with, Sir John Suckling, with whom 
he was, later, on terms of intimacy, and through 
him came to know James Shirley, who served 
under the Duke of Newcastle, and, perhaps, 
George Wither, who was at this period of his 
varied career a Captain and Quarter-master-gen- 
eral in the Royal army. His friendship with 
Andrew Marvell was of later date. 

By August, 1640, the Scots were again in the 
field and preparing to cross the Border. Charles, 

[xii] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

who never wanted in personal bravery, upon 
receipt of the new^s set out from London for 
York, to place himself at the head of his army, 
hurriedly got together, without a commander, and 
already disordered. On the 25th of August the 
Scottish army, 25,000 strong, crossed the Tweed, 
and by the 28th were at Newburn, about four 
miles above Newcastle, where the Tyne is forda- 
ble. The raw English troops opposed to them, 
under the command of Conway, had never been 
under fire. They threw down their arms, and 
fled. The cavalry, under Astley, were driven 
from the field at the first charge. Astley endea- 
voured to rally his men, but the Scots, with Leslie 
in person at their head, charged once more and 
put them to rout. Such as were not taken 
prisoners fled to Durham, where they were re- 
joined on the 30th by the retreating infantry. 
Newcastle, left to its fate, was occupied by the 
Scots, who were not slow in following up their 
advantage, and forcing upon Charles the unpala- 

[ xiii ] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

table Treaty of Ripon. At the conclusion of the 
Treaty, Lovelace retired to his native country, 
with the rank, of Captain, and took possession of 
his estate at Lovelace Place, in the parish of 
Bethersden, at Canterbury. 

Small share of military glory had Lovelace 
got in either campaign ; what was more important 
in shaping his life was the fact that his loyalty 
to his King had steadily grown as the King's 
cause became more and more desperate. In 
April, 1642, he was chosen by the county of 
Kent to deliver to the House of Commons the 
Kentish Petition for the restoring of the King to 
his rights, and for settling the government — " For 
which piece of service he was committed to the 
Gatehouse at Westminster, when he made that 
celebrated song called Stone walls do not a Prison 
make, &c" 

After seven weeks' imprisonment he was lib- 
erated on bail at ^4,000, " not to stir out of the 
lines of communication without a pass from the 

[xiv] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

speaker. During the time of this confinement to 
London, he lived beyond the income of his es- 
tate, either to keep up the credit and reputation 
of the King's cause by furnishing men with horses 
and arms, or by relieving ingenious men in want, 
whether scholars, musicians, soldiers, &c. Also, 
by furnishing his two brothers, Colonel Franc. 
Lovelace and Captain William Lovelace, with 
men and money for the King's cause, and his 
other brother, called Dudley Posthumus Love- 
lace, with moneys for his maintenance in Holland, 
to study tactics and fortification in that school of 



war." 



In 1646, after the rendition of Oxford, partly 
impelled thereto by the utter hopelesness of the 
cause of the King he loved but was unable to 
serve, and partly owing to his having well-nigh 
consumed his estate, he left England, and formed 
a regiment, of which he was colonel, for the service 
of Louis XIV. in the Netherlands. At Dunkirk 
he was severely wounded, but recovered, and 

[xv] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

appears to have served in the Netherlands until 
his return to England in 1648, when he, together 
with his brother Dudley Posthumus, who had 
served as a captain under him, " were both com- 
mitted prisoners to Peter House, in London, 
where he framed* his poems for the press, entitled, 
Lucasta : Epodes, Odes, Sonnets ', Songs, &c, Lond. 
1649, Oct. The reason why he gave that title 
was because, some time before, he had made his 
amours to a gentlewoman of great beauty and 
fortune, named Lucy Sacheverell whom he usually 
called Lux casta ; but she, upon a stray report 
that Lovelace was dead of his wound received at 
Dunkirk, soon after married." 

Shortly after the execution of Charles I. Love- 
lace was set at liberty, but he was a broken man, 
in spirit and in fortune. He "grew very mel- 
ancholy," says Anthony Wood, "(which brought 
him at length into a consumption), became very 
poor in body and purse, was the object of charity 5 
went in ragged cloathes (whereas when he was in 

[xvi] 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

his glory he wore cloth of gold and silver), and 
mostly lodged in obscure and dirty places, more 
befitting the worst of beggars and poorest of 
servants. . . . He died in a very mean lodging 
in Gunpowder Alley, near Shoe Lane, and was 
buried in the west-end of the church of S. Bride, 
alias Bridget, in London, near the body of his 
kinsman Will. Lovelace, of Gray's Inn, Esq., in 
sixteen hundred fifty and eight, having before 
been accounted by all those that well knew him 
to have been a person well versed in Greek and 
Latin poets, in music, whether practical or theo- 
retical, instrumental or vocal, and in other things 
befitting a gentleman. Some of the said persons 
have also added, in my hearing, that his common 
discourse was not only significant and witty, but 
incomparably graceful, which drew respect from 

all men and women." 

FitzRoy Carrington, 



[xvii] 




SONG 



TO LU C AST A 



GOING BEYOND THE SEAS 



I 



I. 

F to be absent were to be 
Away from thee ; 
Or that when I am gone, 
You or I were alone ; 



GOING BEYOND THE SEAS 

Then my Lucasta might I crave 

Pity from blustring winde, or swallowing wave. 



II. 

But Tie not sigh one blast or gale 
To swell my saile, 
Or pay a teare to swage 
The foaming blew-Gods rage ; 
For whether he will let me passe 
Or no, I'm still as happy as I was. 



III. 

Though Seas and Land betwixt us both, 
Our Faith and Troth, 
Like separated soules, 
All time and space controules : 
Above the highest sphere wee meet, 
Unseene, unknowne, and greet as Angels greet. 

[ a ] 



GOING BEYOND THE SEAS 

IV. 

So then we doe anticipate 
Our after-fate, 
And are alive i' th' skies, 
If thus our lips and eyes 
Can speak like spirits unconfin'd 
In Heav'n, their earthy bodies left behind. 



[3] 





SONG 



TO LU C A S T A 



GOING TO THE WARRES 



I 



T: 



ELL me not, (Sweet,) I am unkinde, 
That from the Nunnerie 
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde 
To Warre and Armes I flie. 

[4] 



GOING TO THE WARRES 



II 



True : a new Mistresse now I chase, 
The first Foe in the Field; 

And with a stronger Faith imbrace 
A Sword, a Horse, a Shield. 



Ill 



Yet this Inconstancy is such, 

As you too shall adore ; 
I could not love thee (Dear) so much, 

Lov'd I not Honour more. 



[5] 







A PARADOX 



5^p 

X IS true the beauteous Starre 
To which I first did bow 
Burnt quicker, brighter far, 

Then that which leads me now ; 
Which shines with more delight, 
For gazing on that light 
So long, neere lost my sight. 

[6] 



A PARADOX 



II 



Through foule we follow faire, 
For had the World one face 
And Earth been bright as Ayre, 
We had knowne neither place; 
Indians smell not their Neast; 
A Swisse or Finne tastes best 
The spices of the East. 

III. 

So from the glorious Sunne 

Who to his height hath got, 
With what delight we runne 
To some black Cave or Grot ! 
And, Heav'nly Sydney you 
Twice read, had rather view 
Some odde Romance, so new. 

IV. 

The God, that constant keepes 
Unto his Dieties, 

[7] 



A PARADOX 

Is poore in Joyes, and sleepes 
Imprison'd in the skies. 
This knew the wisest, who 
From Juno stole, below 
To love a Beare, or Cow. 



[8] 






SONG 



TO A MA R A NT HA 

THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL 
HER HAIRE 



^MARANTH A sweet and faire, 

Ah brade no more that shining haire ! 
As my curious hand or eye, 

Hovering round thee let it flye. 

II. 

Let it flye as unconfin'd 

As it's calme Ravisher, the winde, 
Who hath left his darling th' East, 

To wanton o're that spicie NeasL 

III. 

Ev'ry Tresse must be confest ; 
But neatly tangled at the best ; 

[9] 



THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL 
HER HAIRE 

Like a Clue of golden thread, 
Most excellently ravelled. 

IV. 

Doe not then winde up that light 

In Ribands, and o'er-cloud in Night, 

Like the Sun in's early ray; 

But shake your head, and scatter day. 

V. 

See 'tis broke ! Within this Grove, 
The Bower and the walkes of Love, 

Weary lye we downe and rest, 

And fanne each other's panting breast. 

VI. 

Heere wee'll strippe and coole our fire, 
In Creame below, in milke-baths higher : 

And when all Well's are drawne dry, 
I'le drink a teare out of thine eye. 

[10] 






THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL 
HER HAIRE 

VII. 

Which our very Joys shall leave, 
That sorrowes thus we can deceive ; 

Or our very sorrowes weepe, 
That joy es so ripe so little keepe. 



[»] 




SONNET 



I 



D 



EPOSE your finger of that Ring, 
And Crowne mine with't awhile ; 
Now I restor't — Pray, do's it bring 

Back with it more of soile ? 
Or shines it not as innocent, 
As honest, as before 'twas lent ? 



SONNET 



II. 



So then inrich me with that Treasure, 

9 Twill but increase your store, 
And please me (faire one) with that pleasure 

Must please you still the more. 
Not to save others is a curse 
The blackest, when y'are ne're the worse. 



[13] 



ODE 



TO LUCAS T A 



THE ROSE 

I. 

OWEET serene skye-like Flower, 

Haste to adorn her Bower; 

From thy long cloudy bed 
Shoot forth thy damaske head. 

II. 

New-startled blush of Flora I 

The griefe of pale Aurora^ 

Who will contest no more, 
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore, 

En] 



THE ROSE 



III 



Vermilion Ball, that's given 
From lip to lip in Heaven ; 
Loves Couches cover-led, 
Haste, haste, to make her bed. 



IV. 

Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus^ 

And jollie plumpe Silenus ; 

Haste, haste, to decke the Haire, 
Of th ' only sweetly Faire. 



V. 

See ! Rosie is her Bower, 
Her floore is all this flower ; 
Her Bed a Rosie nest 
By a Bed of Roses prest. 

[15] 



THE ROSE 



VI 



But early as she dresses, 

Why fly you her bright Tresses ? 

Ah ! 1 have found, I feare ; 

Because her Cheekes are neere, 




[16] 




SONG 



LOVE CONQUER' D 



T. 



I 



HE childish God of Love did sweare 
Thus ; By my awfull Bow and Quiver, 
Yon' weeping, kissing, smiling pair, 
Tie scatter all their vowes 'ith Ayr, 
And their knit imbraces shiver. 

[17] 



LOVE CONQUE R' D 

II. 

Up then to th' head with his best Art 

Full of spite and envy blowne, 
At her constant Marble Heart, 
He drawes his swiftest surest Dart, 

Which bounded back, and hit his owne, 



III. 

Now the Prince of fires burnes ! 

Flames in the luster of her eyes ; 
Triumphant she, refuses, scornes ; 
He submits, adornes and mournes, 

And in his Votresse Sacrifice. 



IV. 

Foolish Boy ! Resolve me now 

What 'tis to sigh and not be heard ? 
He weeping kneel'd, and made a vow, 
The world shall love as yon' fast two, 
So on his sing'd wings up he steer'd 

[18] 




A LOOSE SARABAND 



I 



A 



H me ! the little Tyrant Theefe 
As once my heart was playing, 
He snatcht it up and flew away, 
Laughing at all my praying. 

[19] 



A LOOSE SARABAND 

II. 

Proud of his purchase he surveyes 

And curiously sounds it, 
And though he sees it full of wounds, 

Cruel still on he wounds it. 

III. 

And now this heart is all his sport, 
Which as a Ball he boundeth 

From hand to breast, from breast to lip, 
And all it's rest confoundeth. 

IV. 

Then as a Top he sets it up, 

And pitifully whips it ; 
Sometimes he cloathes it gay and fine, 

Then straight againe he strips it. 

V. 

He cover'd it with false belief e. 
Which gloriously show'd it ; 

And for a morning-Cushionet 
On's mother he bestow'd it. 

[20] 



A LOOSE SARABAND 

VI. 

Each day, with her small brazen stings, 

A thousand times she rac'd it ; 
But then at night, bright with her Gemmes, 

Once neere her breast she plac'd it. 

VII. 

There warme it gan to throb and bleed ; 

She knew that smart, and grieved ; 
At length this poore condemned Heart 

With these rich drugges repreeved. 

VIII. 

She washt the wound with a fresh teare, 

Which my Lucasta dropped, 
And in the sleave-silke of her haire 

' Twas hard bound up and wrapped. 

IX. 

She proab'd it with her constancie, 

And found no Rancor nigh it ; 
Only the anger of her eye 

Had wrought some proud flesh by it. 



A LOOSE SARABAND 

X. 

Then prest she Narde in ev'ry veine 
Which from her kisses trilled ; 

And with balme heald all its paine, 
That from her hand distilled. 

XL 

But yet this heart avoyds me still, 
Will not by me be owned ; 

But's fled to its physitians breast ; 
There proudly sits inthroned. 



[22] 





SONG 



ORPHEUS TO BEASTS 



I. 



H 



ERE, here, oh here ! Euridice, 

Here was she slaine ; 
Her soule 'stilPd through a veine : 

The Gods knew lesse 
That time Divinitie, 

Then ev'n, ev'n these 

Of brutishnesse. 

[*3] 



ORPHEUS TO BEASTS 

II. 

Oh! could you view the Melodie 

Of ev'ry grace, 
And Musick of her face, 

You'd drop a teare, 
Seeing more Harmonie 

In her bright eye, 

Then now you heare. 



[^4] 




DIALOGUE 



L U C A S r A , ALE X IS 



T: 



L 

Lucasta 



ELL me, Alexis , what this parting is, 
That so like dying is, but is not it ? 

Alexis 

It is a swounding for a while from blisse, 
'Till kind how doe you calls us from the fit 

[*5] 



DIALOGUE 



Chorus 



If then the spirits only stray, let mine 
Fly to thy bosome, and my soule to thine : 
Thus in our native seate we gladly give 
Our right for one, where we can better live. 



II. 

Lucasta 

But ah, this ling'ring, murd'ring farewel ! 

Death quickly wounds, and wounding cures the ill. 

Alexis 

It is the glory of the valiant lover, 
Still to be dying, still for to recover. 

Chorus 

Soldiers suspected of their courage goe, 
That ensignes and their breasts untorne show : 
Love nee're his standard, where his hoste he sets, 
Creates alone fresh-bleeding bannerets. 

[a6] 



DIALOGUE 

III. 

Alexis 

But part we, when thy figure I retaine 

Still in my heart, still strongly in mine eye ? 

Luc as t a 

Shadowes no longer than the sun remaine, 
But whe his beams, that made 'em fly, they fly. 

Chorus 

Vaine dreames of love ! that only so much blisse 
Allow us, as to know our wretchednesse ; 
And deale a larger measure in our paine 
By showing joy, then hiding it againe. 

IV. 

Alexis 

No, whilst light raigns, Lucasta still rules here, 
And all the night shine wholy in this sphere. 

Lucasta 

I know no morne but my Alexis ray, 

To my dark thoughts the breaking of the day. 

I>7] 



DIALOGUE 

Chorus 

Alexis 

So in each other if the pitying sun 

Thus keep us fixt, nere may his course be run 

Lucasta 

And oh ! if night us undivided make ; 

Let us sleepe still, and sleeping never wake ! 

The Close 

Cruel adieus may well adjourne awhile 
The sessions of a looke, a kisse, or smile, 
And leave behinde an angry grieving blush ; 
But time nor fate can part us joined thus. 



[*8] 




SONNET 



I 



W 



HEN I by thy faire shape did sweare, 
And mingled with each Vowe a teare, 

I lov'd, I lov'd thee best, 

I swore as I profest ; 
For all the while you lasted warme and pure. 

My Oathes too did endure ; 

[>9] 



SONNET 

But once turn'd faithlesse to thy selfe, and Old, 
They then with thee incessantly grew Cold. 

II. 

I swore my selfe thy sacrifice 

By th' Ebon Bowes that guard thine eyes, 

Which now are alter'd White, 

And by the glorious Light 
Of both those Stars, of which their spheres bereft, 

Only the Gellie's left : 
Then changed thus, no more I'm bound to you, 
Then swearing to a Saint that proves untrue. 



[30] 



. -•> ■ 



.«V- 




SONG 



LUCASTA WEEPING 



I. 



L 



UCASTA wept, and still the bright 
Inamour'd God of Day, 
With his soft Handkercher of Light, 
Kist the wet Pearles away. 

[31] 



LUCAS TA WEEPING 

II. 

But when her Teares his heate ore'came, 
In Cloudes he quensht his beames, 

And griev'd, wept out his Eye of Flame, 
So drowned her sad Streames. 

III. 

At this she smil'd, when straight the Sun 
Cleer'd, with her kinde desires ; 

And by her eyes Reflection, 
Kindled againe his Fires. 



[3*] 




UPON THE CURTAINE OF LU- 
CASTA' S PICTURE IT WAS. 
THUS WROUGHT 



Oh, stay that Covetous hand — first turn all Eye, 
All Depth, and minde ; then Mystically spye 
Her Soul's faire Picture, her faire Soul's, in all 
So truely Copied from th' Originall, 
That you will sweare her Body by this Law 
Is but its shadow, as this its ; — now draw. 




SONNET 



ELLINDA'S GLOVE 



I 



T. 



HOU snowy Farme with thy five Tenements! 
Tell thy white Mistris here was one, 
That call'd to pay his dayly Rents ; 
But she a-gathering Flowr's and Hearts is gone, 
And thou left voyd to rude Possession. 

[34] 



ELLI NDA'S GLOVE 

II. 

But grieve not, pretty Ermin Cabinet, 

Thy Alabaster Lady will come home ; 
If not, what Tenant can there fit 
The slender turnings of thy narrow Roome, 
But must ejected be by his owne dombe ? 



III. 

Then give me leave to leave my Rent with thee 
Five kisses, one unto a place : 
For though the Lute's too high for me, 
Yet Servants, knowing Minikin nor Base, 
Are still allow'd to fiddle with the Case. 



[35] 




SONG 



THE SCRUTINIE 



I 



W 



HY should you sweare I am forsworn, 
Since thine I vow'd to be ? 
Lady, it is already Morn, 

And 'twas last night I swore to thee 
That fond impossibility. 

13*1 



THE SCRUTINIE 

II. 

Have I not lov'd thee much and long, 
A tedious twelve houres space ? 

I. must all other Beauties wrong, 
And rob thee of a new imbrace ; 
Could I still dote upon thy Face. 



Ill 

Not, but all joy in thy browne haire 
By others may be found ; 

But I must search the black and faire, 
Like skilfull Minerallist's that sound 
For Treasure in un-plow'd-up ground, 



IV. 

Then, if when I have lov'd my round, 
Thou prov'st the pleasant she ; 

With spoyles of meaner Beauties crown'd, 
I laden will return to thee, 
Ev'n sated with Varietie. 

[37] 




A SONG 



THE VINTAGE TO THE 
DUNGEON 



I 



S 



ING out, pent Soules, sing cheerefully 
Care Shackles you in Liberty : 
Mirth frees you in Captivity. 

Would you double fetters adde ? 
Else why so sadde ? 

[38] 



THE VINTAGE TO THE 

D UN GEO N 

Chorus 

Besides you pinion'd armes you'l find 
Griefe too can manckell the minde. 

II. 

Live then Pris'ners uncontrol'd; 
Drink oth' strong, the Rich, the Old, 
Till Wine too hath your Wits in hold ; 

Then if still your Jollitie 

And Throats are free ; 

Chorus 

Tryumph in your Bonds and Paines, 

And daunce to th' Musick of your Chaines, 



I39-] 




E P O D E 



TO LUCASTA 



FROM PRISON 



I 



L 



ONG in thy shackels, liberty 
I ask not from these walls, but thee ; 
Left for awhile another's bride, 
To fancy all the world beside. 

[40] 



FROM PRISON 

II. 

Yet e're I doe begin to love, 
See how I all my objects prove ; 
Then my free soule to that confine, 
' Twere possible I might call mine. 

III. 

First I would be in love with Peace, 
And her rich swelling breasts increase, 
But how, alas ! how may that be, 
Despising earth, she will love me ? 

IV. 

Faine would I be in love with War, 
As my deare just avenging star ; 
But War is lov'd so ev'rywhere, 
Ev'n he disdaines a lodging here. 

V. 

Thee and thy wounds I would bemoane, 
Faire thorough-shot Religion ; 

[41]" 



FROM PRISON 

But he lives only that kills thee, 
And who so bindes thy hands, is free. 

VI. 

I would love a Parliament 

As a maine prop from Heav'n sent; 

But ah ! Who's he that would be wedded 

To th' fairest body that's beheaded ? 

VII. 

Next would I court my Liberty, 
And then my birth-right, Property; 
But can that be, when it is knowne 
There's nothing you can call your owne ? 



VIII. 

A Reformation I would have, 
As for our griefes a Sov'raigne salve; 
That is, a cleansing of each wheele 
Of state, that yet some rust doth feele, 

[42] 



FROM PRISON 

IX. 

But not a reformation so 
As to reforme were to ore'throw, 
Like watches by unskilfull men 
Disjoynted, and set ill againe. 

X. 

The Publick Faith I would adore, 
But she is banke-rupt of her store : 
Nor how to trust her can I see, v 
For she that couzens all, must me. 

XL 

Since then none of these can be 
Fit objects for my love and me ; 
What then remaines, but th' only spring 
Of all our loves and joyes, the KING? 

XII. 

He who, being the whole ball 
Of day on earth, lends it to all ; 

[43] 



FROM PRISON 

When seeking to ecclipse his right, 
Blinded we stand in our owne light. 

XIII. 

And now an universall mist 

Of error is spread or'e each breast, 

With such a fury edg'd as is 

Not found in th' inwards of th' abysse, 

XIV. 

Oh, from the glorious starry waine 
Dispense on me one sacred beame 
To light me where I soone may see 
How to serve you, and you trust me ! 



[44] 




SONG 



TO A L TH E A 



FROM PRISON 



I 



W 



HEN Love with unconfined wings 
Hovers within my Gates ; 
And my divine Althea brings 
To whisper at the grates ; 



FROM PRISON 

When I lye tangled in her haire, 
And fetterd to her eye, 

The Gods that wanton in the aire, 
Know no such Liberty. 



II 



When flowing Cups run swiftly round 

With no allaying Thames, 
Our carelesse heads with Roses bound, 

Our hearts with loyall Flames ; 
When thirsty griefe in Wine we steepe, 

When Healths and draughts go free, 

Fishes that tipple in the Deepe, 

Know no such Libertie. 



III. 

When (like committed Linnets) I 
With shriller throat shall sing 

The sweetnes, Mercy, Majesty, 
And glories of my King. 




LOVELACE IN PRISON 



FROM PRISON 

When I shall voyce aloud, how Good 
He is, how Great should be, 

Inlarged Winds, that curie the Flood, 
Know no such Liberty. 

IV. 

Stone Walls doe not a Prison make, 

Nor Iron bars a Cage ; 
Mindes innocent and quiet take 

That for an Hermitage ; 
If I have freedome in my Love, 

And in my soule am free, 
Angels alone that sore above 

Enjoy such Liberty. 



[49] 



1 




SONG 



TO LVCASTA 



HER RESERVED LOOKS 



l^UCASTA, frown, and let me die, 

But smile, and see, I live; 
The sad indifference of your eye 

Both kills and doth reprieve. 
You hide our fate within its screen ; 

We feel our judgment, ere we hear. 
So in one picture I have seen 

An angel hear, the devil there. 

[ 50 ] 




SONG 



TO LUCAS T A 



I 



I 



LAUGH and sing, but cannot tell 
Whether the folly on't sounds well ; 

But then I groan, 

Methinks, in tune; 
Whilst grief, despair and fear dance to the air 

Of my despised prayer. 

[Si] 



TO LUCASTA 

II. 

A pretty antick love does this, 
Then strikes a galliard with a kiss ; 

As in the end 

The chords they rend ; 
So you but with a touch from your fair hand 

Turn all to saraband. 



[52] 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



If to be absent were to be . 
Tell me not, (Sweet,) I am unkinde, 
' Tis true the beauteous Starre . 
Amarantha sweet and faire, .... 
Depose your ringer of that Ring 
Sweet serene skye-like Flower, . 
The childish God of Love did sweare 
Ah me ! the little Tyrant Theefe ! . 
Here, here, oh here ! Euridice, . 
Tell me, Alexis, what this parting is, 
When I by thy faire shape did sweare, . 
Lucast-a wept, and still the bright 
Oh, stay that Covetous hand — first turn all 
Why should you sweare I am forsworn, . 
Sing out, pent Soules, sing cheerefully ! . 
Long in thy shackels, liberty 
Thou snowy Farme with thy five Tenements 
When Love with unconfined wings . 
Lucasta, frown, and let me die, . 
I laugh and sing, but cannot tell 

[ 55 ] 



Eye 



PAGE 
I 

4 
6 

9 

12 

*7 

19 
2 3 
25 
29 

3 1 
33 

36 
38 

40 

3+ 
47 
5° 
5i 



LIST OF THE COMPOSERS WHO SET TO 
MUSIC CERTAIN SONG SAND SONNETS BY 

RICHARD LOVELACE 

MR. THOMAS CHARLES 

Why should you sweare I am forsworn. 



f^ssE^n 



MR. CURTES 
Here, here, oh here ! Euridice. 



MR. JOHN GAMBLE 

Tell me, Alexis, what this parting is. 



MR. HUDSON 

Depose your finger of that Ring. 
MR. JOHN LANIERE 

Lucasta wept, and still the bright. 
Tell me not, (Sweet,) I am unkinde. 



MR. HENRY LAWES 

Ah me ! the little Tyrant Theefe ! 

Amaranth a sweet and faire. 

If to be Absent were to be. 

The childish God of Love did sweare, 

[56] 



MR. WILLIAM LA WES 

Sing out, pent Soules, sing cheerefully ! 
When I by thy faire shape did sweare. 



DR. JOHN WILSON 

Sweet serene skye-like Flower. 
When Love with unconiined wings. 



[57] 



SEP 21 1901 



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